


An emotion other than hate

by rufferto



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8040961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufferto/pseuds/rufferto
Summary: Chris gave him a long suffering look. The same one he’d been using for the last twenty five years. “Maybe you should try a different tactic? Like being helpful for a change?”  “Fuck you,” Peter snapped at him.“In your dreams, Hale.” Chris snickered.





	An emotion other than hate

Peter’s head was killing him…which wasn’t a surprise, really. It had been happening more and more lately. He was fairly certain something was wrong with him but it wasn’t like he could actually talk to anyone. Even Derek was strained when he spoke with Peter and how many times had he said he was sorry. It wasn’t enough. The kids not liking him? The kids treating him with disrespect? He could handle that. He didn’t care. There was one person, however, that could always get his hackles to rise just by raising a fucking eyebrow. He wanted to clench his fist and smash that smirk right off of Chris Argent’s self-righteous face.

“They left you behind,” Chris looked like he thought that was hilarious. “I’m just here to pick this up…” He reached down to grab a bag he’d left behind last time. “And I’ll get out of the way of …. Whatever it is you do.”

Peter scowled. He actually knew what was going on and would have told the kids if they’d asked him. He knew exactly where to find the bad guys and how to get rid of them. He huffed in Chris’ direction and adopted a ‘who needs you anyway’ expression. “I was out when they came back,” he shrugged.  It galled him that the Pack had accepted Christopher Argent and not him, it really did. Not that he would ever let on.

Chris gave him a long suffering look. The same one he’d been using for the last twenty five years. “Maybe you should try a different tactic? Like being helpful for a change?”  

“Fuck you,” Peter snapped at him.

“In your dreams, Hale.” Chris snickered.

For a long moment they just glared at each other. It had always been that way between them, each too proud to rip through the barriers.

“You wish,” Peter snorted. “I have better things to dream about than you, Argent.”  He moved in the man’s direction. Well, he was directly in the way of the fridge with the beer, after all.  What he really dreamed of was fire, death and pain and he would wake up in a cold sweat, cowering in a corner.

A thing he would never tell a soul.

Chris adopted a defensive position the moment Peter closed in on his personal space. He stood his ground and simply smirked again when Peter edged around him and made his way to the fridge. “Still can’t bring yourself to touch me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Peter snorted. He tugged out a beer and turned to find Chris had _not_ moved. Peter was essentially trapped in-between the fridge and Chris Argent. “ _Move_.” He snapped.

“No,” Chris laughed softly. He opened up the palm of his hand very carefully and placed it on Peter’s chest. He held the Wolf’s gaze, almost daring him to fight. “I have no problem touching _you,_ anyway.”

Peter’s lips curled as his fist gripped the bottle.

Chris’s eyes skated down Peter’s face to rest on his lips. “I wonder when the last time was someone kissed you.”  He leisurely moved his hand up from where it was creating havoc with Peter’s heart to his throat. His large hand easily found the contours of Peter’s neck and brazenly caressed the bare skin. “When did you last feel something other than hate?”  He looked almost sad.

Peter could hardly move. He was mesmerized by the sound of Chris’ voice. It washed over him and cooled down his skin. Skin that tingled and came alive for the first time in years. “Why do you care?” He swallowed and tried to feign indifference. His headache came back in full-force and he fought to stop a wince of pain. There was no way he was going to show weakness in front of Chris Argent.  He made no move to touch the other man and willed his body under control.

It had different ideas.

It had been more than a decade, if he were honest with himself.

“Do you want me to?” Chris asked Peter. The hunter’s hand still remained half encircled around Peter’s throat.

Peter couldn’t tell what Chris was thinking. He never could, that’s what made this so unfair. Hunters were good at hiding their feelings from Wolves. “Want you to what?”  He feigned complete innocence as to whatever it was Chris was suggesting.  His mouth was suddenly very dry and he desperately wanted to open the beer and fling himself away from Chris Argent. He would be damned if he was going to lose…whatever this was…though.

Want him to care? Want him to break through the fucking walls with a sledgehammer and make Peter scream his name?  Want him to strip them both bare and fuck him on every surface they could find? Want? Yes. God, yes, he wanted to do all these things and more. Had wanted to…for a very long time. And fucking Chris Argent.

Chris _knew_.

“Get off me,” Peter had enough. He shoved Chris away from him and put the counter between them as fast as he possibly could. His neck burned from the touch and his skin felt so hot he wanted to jump into a pool of ice just to cool the fuck down. “Go bother someone else, I have things to do.”  He turned away from Argent and leaned against the counter so he could chug most of the beer.

Damnit, but he was thirsty.

“You can’t get drunk, you’re a Werewolf.” Chris pointed out in amusement. “Peter, seriously, you look kind flushed and I don’t think it’s all because of me, as much fun as that thought is. Are you alright?”

“I’ve had a headache for two weeks, alcohol helps dull the pain.” Peter shrugged.

“Two weeks?” Chris’ tone changed from being amused at Peter’s expense to actual concern. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He edged over and this time approached a little more cautiously. “Peter that’s not a good sign. Have you been to see a doctor?”

Peter gave a dry laugh, “As you so eloquently pointed out. I am a werewolf. It’ll pass.”

“Sit.” Chris directed towards a chair.

Peter looked incredulous.

Chris rolled his eyes, “I’m not giving you an order, you idiot. I’m actually pretty good at this. Victoria used to get them all the time. Sit down, unless you’d rather just be in pain.”

“Don’t the kids need you?”

“They can wait. It’s just recon.”

Peter looked from the chair to Chris, to his hands and to his face and was torn. There was no love lost between them and yet, Chris was the first person to offer to help him in a very long time. To offer to touch him, too. He exhaled, took a second beer from the fridge and went to sit down. “Fine,” he nodded. He wasn’t afraid of Chris Argent.

Chris settled behind him on the sofa, and Peter focused on his heart beat to keep his nerves contained. He tried not to focus on Chris’ long fingers now carding through his hair. God… he hadn’t been touched like that…ever, really. “You have soft hair,” Chris approved. His fingers found specific spots on Peter’s forehead and skull and slowly began little circular motions. “Smells good too.”

“You don’t need to talk,” Peter murmured.

God… he had to grudgingly admit that it felt heavenly. He felt tension begin to leave his temples and the shooting pain subside a little. After a while he was embarrassed to find himself leaning into the touch. His body shuddered slightly. It had been way too long. Chris’ fingers weren’t just working his skull, they moved up and down the back of his neck, under his ears…up and over his forehead and down his temple. “This is the point where you thank me.” Chris had leaned forward a little and his breath was warm against Peter’s ear.

“Fuck you,” Peter laughed softly, “I’ll kill you if you stop.”

Chris didn’t stop, thank God. He kept going. Peter felt the pain subside and his muscles relax he’d never had someone do this before. Care enough to take away the pain, that is. Could he trust it? Did Chris really care? Or was he just bored and lonely. “You’re so tight, Peter. Your muscles are like rocks, no wonder your head’s been hurting.” Chris tsked. “Take off your shirt.”

Peter glanced back at him sharply, shrugged, and complied. He wasn’t shy.

The hunter’s hands raked over his shoulders briefly and soon began a similar kneading process. “I have to admit,” Chris chuckled as he worked on Peter’s spine and shoulders. “I’d expected more resistance.”

“It hurt too much to argue,” Peter grunted. “Your hands are magical, Christopher Argent.”

“Is that a thank-you? I sense a thank you coming on.” Chris laughed.

“Not on your life,” Peter snorted.

Chris’ hands had stilled to gentle caresses and Peter suspected his hands were tired of the effort. He hadn’t felt relaxed in a long time, always had his guard up. Even now. They sat there for a while, just in each other’s space. The caresses became finger trails as Chris mapped his skin. “We’re not kids, Peter.” Chris said at last. “So to be clear I’ve actually wanted to fuck you for a while now, but your personality gets in the way.”

“It was burned out of me,” Peter snorted, surprised to hear the honesty in Chris’ words.

“I don’t think so, not completely.” Chris shook his head. “You’re in there, you just don’t want people to see. I’m actually surprised you let me touch you.”

“I like your hands,” Peter gave a boneless shrug.

“I’m fairly sure it’s more than that. You won’t even look me in the eye sometimes.” Chris nudged him. “Turn around, I don’t want to talk to the back of your head as gorgeous as your hair is.”

Peter laughed dryly and shifted. He looked at Chris and was surprised to see the candid expression there. “Maybe it is,” he trailed off and licked his bottom lip.

“It doesn’t have to be difficult, Peter.” Chris looked pained. “Anyway... point is. Let me.”

It was a unique way to negotiate sex, Peter had to admit. “Okay,” Peter exhaled.

Chris looked at him suspiciously. “That’s it? Just _okay_?”

“What do you want me to say, Christopher?” Peter rolled his eyes. He picked up his beer and finished it. “The kids are safely out of the way tonight, so…”

Chris kissed him and his world spun. The romance novels never get it right. The first kiss is never something pretty or romantic. It’s desperate, it’s urgency at its highest peak. When Chris kissed him, he kissed with everything he had. Peter barely had time to respond. Hands were everywhere, teeth and lips and Chris straddled him. It was like someone had opened floodgates and suddenly he wanted to feel again. He responded just as fervently now. The force in which they groped each other knocked them off the couch onto the floor and Chris landed on his back with Peter on top.

Peter gave a wolfish grin and yelped when Chris turned the tables and they rolled over each other. Every time he thought he’d got Chris pinned, it was in vain. The man just wouldn’t stay down. They fought for dominance between kisses, broke a table, knocked out the leg of a chair. All the while Peter kept in his human form, thrilled by the fight as adrenalin rushed through him. At one point he’d latched hold of Chris’ shirt and pulled it off him.

His bedroom was upstairs but he’d be damned if he broke first.

As it was, he didn’t have to. Chris groaned from a too hard impact at one point, “That’s it… I’m too old for this,” he wheezed. “Can we maybe move to a bed so I can fuck you senseless already?”

Peter was more than happy to oblige because damnit, he WON. And he was never going to let Chris forget it. Chris was right, he needed this. More than he realized.

It was nice to feel something other than pain and hate for once.

*FIN*


End file.
